


The Oath

by RosexKnight



Series: Tumblr Wedding Prompts [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7727812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosexKnight/pseuds/RosexKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anon Prompted: 4. “remember when we were in high school and we swore that if we were still single at 30 we’d marry each other, well hey guess whose birthday it is”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Oath

Rhys Gold hadn’t thought much of the pinky promise he and Belle French had made in his car all those years ago. He’d been so engrossed in pretending not to see her tears as she looked out the window from his passenger seat, trying to deduce if it was sadness or rage causing them. He’d barely registered the words at the time.

“God, screw dating! I should just marry you!”

It was all he could do not to completely swerve off the road back to her house. It seemed her night of fun with the girls at The Rabbit Hole hadn’t gone as planned at all. It was no wonder she was talking like this. Still, she seemed serious. Completely serious. But that couldn’t be right.

Alcohol. It must have been the alcohol making her talk like this. Like she meant it. “Pardon?”

“Well not now. I’m going to college and you have the pawn shop…” Her voice trailed off as she sat back and looked to him, any evidence of tears well covered by her shimmering eyes. “I mean when we’re, like twenty-six.”

“When YOU’RE twenty-six.” Gold grumbled, well-aware of their age difference. Friends. That’s all they were. Close friends on nights like this when he allowed himself to believe she cared as much as she seemed to. Rhys was content with that. Had always been content with that.

But Belle only hushed him. He was already a few years her senior when she and her father moved to Storybrooke, though it didn’t feel like it. At 20 she was an old soul, preferring to spend time in the library or her father’s flower shop or his small pawn shop rather than any of the cafes or bars like the other girls. Well, except for tonight apparently. What had she been doing in The Rabbit Hole with that sleazeball anyway? He’d raise Gaston’s rent. That seemed fitting.

They turned onto the street with her house, and he stopped the black Cadillac before it. She turned to him. “No I’m serious though. We get along don’t we?”

Better than he’d ever dreamed. He and Belle were different. Her all curves and sweetness and he all jagged edges and cruelty. Not that it seemed to stop her from the maddening flirting between their talks of books and trinkets and traveling and deeper subjects like family and loved ones that no one else knew. It was really only natural that they gravitated towards each other. He might have even fallen in love with her long ago. Still, he couldn’t very well reveal that.

So, he only shrugged. “I suppose.”

The brunette nodded, “And I want to get married one day. And you want to re-marry someday don’t you?” He shrugged again. “So why not?”

Oh but he didn’t have an answer for her. Somewhere, in a perfect world where he wasn’t a coward running away from his ex-wife, or a cripple who could barely walk without a cane, or a cynic barely able to hold on to anyone but his son then he’d court her properly. Give her every treasure she deserved to be showered with. Maybe even propose to her right then and there. Tell her she was his best friend. That he was pretty sure he loved her. But it wasn’t a perfect world. He was just Rhys Gold, the man who fought from poverty to own most of the small town and now a pawn shop. The man who was considered by all of Storybrooke to be heartless because he was stern on rent and made deals that always went his way. The fact that he was the one taking her home from the bar had nothing to do with tender feelings Belle could never have for him. He was simply the first one she dialed. It had to have been that. Convenience. That’s what this deal was about.

“Let’s make a deal.” She said, her voice dropping to one of a serious tone. “When I’m 26, if I’m not with anyone, and if you’re not with anyone, let’s get married.”

Gold blinked. She was serious. Oh but she couldn’t have been. “Why?”

And then she was smiling at him and her blue eyes were sparkling in the moonlight. “Because why not? Papa always said to marry my best friend.”

“I doubt he had me in mind, dearie.”

“Do we have a deal or not?”

She leaned over the center console of his Cadillac, holding out her pinkie to him. He rolled his eyes at the gesture. Childish. Adorable.

“Very well.” He sighed, pretending to be exasperated. What did he have to lose, really? Belle would no doubt grab the attention of half the males of her school. She’d find someone. Start the life she’d always wanted. And he had his son. It was all he needed.

Belle grinned, and he fought the smile playing on his lips as he laced their pinkies together. “Twenty-six.” He echoed, and she nodded.

He opened his mouth to speak again, but then she was leaning over, and the words died on his tongue as her soft lips touched his cheek. “Thanks, Rhys.”

And then the beauty was disappearing into her home, and he waited by the driveway to watch her bedroom light flick on before driving back to his house, saving the memory of her closeness.

No, Rhys Gold hadn’t thought much of the pinky promise he and Belle French had made in his car all those years ago. In fact, he’d all but buried it in the back of his mind, locked away to pull out only when the nights were too lonely and the scotch wasn’t doing its job.

A night that very day was shaping up to be. Rainy, cold, Bae off on holiday with friends before the end of the school year. He sat in his shop, looking blankly over the inventory, wondering mentally if he had any whiskey for when the scotch ran out. So engrossed in his bad mood that the bell ringing over his door all but grated against his ears.

“Not in the mood for browsers today.” He grumbled, a clear warning in his voice as he pointed towards the door, not looking up from his books. “So unless you’re here for something, do go back out the way you came in.”

“Well it’s nice to see you haven’t changed.”

Rhys’s head shot up so fast he could have given himself whiplash. Standing before him, folding up an old umbrella with a bright smile was Belle French. She didn’t look like she’d changed. Same vibrant smile. Same chocolate curls. Same brilliant blue eyes. She was like an angel. A soggy angel in heels and a skirt and leggings and he had to move, put some pressure on his ankle to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

“Belle.” He said, almost choking out the words. “You’re back in Storybrooke?”

“I am.” She said with a smile, stepping further into his shop. “I just arrived today, actually. The place hasn’t changed much.”

“Indeed it hasn’t.”

“How have you been? This place looks amazing. You’ve certainly expanded your collection.”

It was true. What was once a somewhat barren shop had become a veritable treasure trove of knick-knacks and antiques no one would ever buy. She, of course, loved it. He knew she did. He could practically see the questions about each item forming in her mind. He’d answer every single one of it meant keeping her here.

"How…how was school?” Rhys asked before he could chicken out.

Belle shrugged. “It was hard at first, but I did it. Hardest part was finding a job afterward. And fitting in in the big city. It’s all so…disconnected.”

“How long will you be visiting?”

This time she giggled, and oh he missed that childish adorable giggle. “I’m moving back. Becoming the new librarian.”

“Ah yes madame mayor did mention she was re-opening the place…” His voice trailed off as he tried to focus on anything but her and how her delicate, perfectly manicured fingers traced a mobile of glass unicorns. “I suppose that means I’ll be your landlord. Not coming to strike up a deal for rent already are you, dearie?”

Belle laughed again, turning her attention to him. “No nothing like that. Though…there is a deal I wanted to discuss with you. If you have the time.”

She gave a pointed look to his inventory books, and he found himself immediately closing them. It wasn’t like Belle to make deals.

“What would you like?”

Belle worried her lip, and her whole demeanor changed. She almost looked sheepish as she pushed a damp piece of hair behind her ear before looking back to him. “Do you remember that night years back when I went out to the Rabbit Hole with the girls and had you pick me up because I was having a rotten time and Gaston got too grabby?“

Gold nodded, and a smile quirked at Belle’s lips as she continued. "Well, I’m going to be twenty-six next month…”

Suddenly his eyebrows raised, the memories of the deal flooding back.

“You’d…You were serious.” He realized.

“Of course I was.” Belle stepped forward, looking almost hurt that he didn’t think she had been. “Were…Were you?”

He couldn’t breathe. He’d lived these years with nothing but memories and fantasies keeping him sane and here was Belle French, standing in his shop talking of marriage.

“I thought…” His voice trailed off, and once again her demeanor changed.

Gold found himself unable to look away from her as she approached the counter, smiling at him with a look in her eye he’d seen only a handful of times.

“You still don’t believe I could love you, do you Rhys?” She asked, her voice barely over a whisper.

“You were going to find someone at college.”

“I didn’t.”

“You were going to travel. See the world. Have the life you always wanted!”

And then she was giggling again, and Rhys braced himself, waiting to wake up with a jolt of disappointment and start the day with a cold shower. Belle shook her head, reaching out to cover his hand with hers.

“I made the deal with you because THIS was the life I wanted. I just…” She paused, looking sheepish again. After a moment of hesitation, she pulled her hand away. “If it’s not what you want…I mean it was almost eight years ago.”

Something akin to courage surged through him and he grabbed her hand, bolting to his feet, ankle be damned.

“I never break a deal, dearie.”


End file.
